


Stripped Bare

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All the Smut, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Soul Bond, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, Voyeurism, it's a problem, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:17:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: Dragged to Malfoy Manor, Hermione is tortured for information on Harry's whereabouts. When the Cruciatus curse proves useless, Bellatrix settles on a heinous course of action to loosen her tongue. Forced to come together under threat of death, Draco and Hermione are about to learn there is more to their relationship than hatred.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger whimpered at the pain as she was jerked back onto her feet by her hair. The cruel, clutching hand that fisted her locks was unrelenting and demanded she retake her feet in spite of the pain of being Crucioed again and again. She gasped at the additional insult when she felt several precious strands tug free of her scalp with a painful sting.

She had no recollection anymore of how long she had been there in Malfoy Manor, dragged before the Death Eaters by that monstrous werewolf and kept at the mercy of a deranged Bellatrix LeStrange.

"Where is Harry Potter?" Bellatrix interrogated her for the thousandth time, seeming to truly believe that after all this time, after being relentlessly tortured for what felt like years, Hermione might change her answer.

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, unable to speak the words out loud because her throat was so raw and ragged from all the screaming.

Bellatrix backhanded her.

"LIAR!" she screamed, "You'll tell me or I'll have someone rape it out of you, bitch!"

Hermione felt dread curl in her stomach. She'd been waiting for it, though she had expected that rather than a threat, that would be the last resort. That she would be thrown to Fenrir Greyback so he could have his perverted way with her before he tore her throat out with his teeth.

"Please," Hermione whispered, her face wet with tears, one eye rapidly blackening thanks to the many times she'd fallen to the floor and been backhanded, her lip split open and dribbling her so called 'dirty' blood down her chin.

"Please… I don't know…" Hermione whispered.

"You're a filthy little liar, Mudblood, and if you don't tell me I'm going to let Greyback rape the truth out of you," Bellatrix hissed in her face. Her claw-like hand buried in Hermione's hair again, tugging her head back uncomfortably far, her wand to Hermione's throat threateningly.

"But I don't know where he is," Hermione sobbed. She was too far gone from the torture to care that she was crying in front of the Malfoys and the Snatchers and the other present Death Eaters.

"Your loyalty will see you fucked and murdered," Bellatrix snarled in her face, "GREYBACK!"

Hermione whimpered and sobbed as she was thrown on the floor again, face-down. She could hear the sound of that monster's gleeful chuckles, and could hear the click of his talon-like toenails on the marble floor as he came closer.

"You can't…." A small voice protested just as Hermione felt someone seize the back of her jumper and begin to lift her from where she sobbed on the floor.

"What did you say, Draco?" Bellatrix demanded, though Hermione knew that in the cavernous room, silent but for Hermione's sobs and Greyback's glee, she had heard the words.

Hermione lifted her head slowly, her eyes meeting the grey, terrified pair of Draco Malfoy. She could tell at a glance that the protest had left his lips involuntarily. That his mouth had spoken before his mind had given permission for those words to blurt out.

"Did you just tell me I can't let Greyback fuck this pathetic little Mudblood?" Bellatrix demanded, and Hermione saw the way Narcissa Malfoy gripped her son's forearm in a white-knuckled hold, as though she was attempting to pull him away from Bellatrix's gaze.

"Is that what you said to me, Drakey?" Bellatrix purred at him in such a way that Hermione felt herself shudder involuntarily.

"I'm going to fuck you until you bleed, sweetling," Hermione suddenly heard a deep, gravelly voice growl in her ear and she recoiled violently, her body screaming obscenities at her as she skidded backwards across the marble floor that was now riddled with claw marks where she'd dragged her fingernails deep into the stone in the throes of agony beneath Bellatrix LeStrange's wand.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Hermione spat at the werewolf, her voice raw and croaky.

"Greyback," Bellatrix suddenly barked, "Get out!"

"But you said I could have her!" the werewolf snarled. He was on all fours already, and his clawed hand groped at Hermione's ankle, trying to tug her closer, trying to pin her beneath him. Hermione kicked him in the face with all her might, eliciting a furious growl from the werewolf. She screamed in agony when he sank his claws into her calf-muscle right through the fabric of her jeans and slashed them down her skin even as he dragged her beneath him.

"I SAID GET OUT!" Bellatrix screamed, and Hermione didn't know if she should be grateful or terrified when the deranged witch latched onto the werewolf's fur and bodily threw him away from Hermione.

"The bitch is mine!" Greyback snarled ferociously, "I'm going to taste how fucking sweet she is!"

"Oh no," Bellatrix declared, wagging her finger at him like he was a bad dog, "No, it seems my Drakey likes this one. He'll rape the answers out of her!"

"Bella!" Narcissa Malfoy gasped "You can't be serious! This is my son and you want him to sully himself with a filthy mudblood?"

Hermione's eyes had swivelled to land on Draco Malfoy's face, and he was turning a disturbing shade of grey, since he was already so pale and washed out that simply turning white was no longer an option. He was staring back at her, looking utterly horror stricken and terrified.

"You heard the boy Cissy!" Bellatrix said sharply, even as she began to dance with glee, "He told me I couldn't let Greyback rape her. Don't worry Drakey, even the best of us are drawn in by their pretty looks, that's how they stole their magic from a real witch or wizard in the first place. Now take her upstairs and fuck her until she tells us where Potter and her other filthy friends are hiding."

Draco didn't move, and Hermione began to tremble. She knew that if he refused there would be trouble for all of them and more than anything, she wanted to avoid being anywhere near the clutches of Fenrir Greyback. Even if it meant having to allow Draco Malfoy to rape her. At least he wasn't likely to try and eat her flesh as he fucked her. Not like the mongrel would.

"What's the matter Drakey?" Bellatrix teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality, "Don't you have the bollocks for this task either? Did the Dark Lord make a mistake when he honoured you with the mark you've yet to earn? Would you like to join her on the floor to be tortured? Maybe you're a mudblood sympathiser. Is that it Draco? You think this little whore is better than purebloods like us? You think she deserves the same rights when she stole someone's magic?"

"Bella. No!" Narcissa tried to intervene, but Hermione could see that Malfoy had no other option. She knew the crazy bitch would make him do it, and as much as the idea of being raped turned her stomach, Hermione had known the minute they'd caught her that it was inevitable.

"Do it, Draco!" Bellatrix said, ignoring her sister as she turned her wand on her nephew. Draco stilled beneath it, and Narcissa drew her own wand on her sister.

"Don't you dare Bella," she warned coldly, "Don't you draw your wand on my son."

"I'm disappointed in you Cissy," Bellatrix said, her voice mocking as she faked heartbreak, "Greyback, lock Narcissa and her husband in their chambers!" she commanded. The werewolf was only too happy to oblige.

"What are you doing?" Narcissa demanded, shocked and horrified now.

"Do it Draco, or the mudblood dies, and your mother will be next!" Bellatrix screamed, losing her temper again.

"Please Draco," Hermione whispered, seeing no other option. She did not want him to rape her, and she could see he didn't want to do it. But if he refused she would die, no doubt at the fangs of the werewolf.

"Listen to that!" Bellatrix screeched, "The little whore wants you Drakey. Now take her upstairs and fuck her until she gives us the answers I want."

"Draco…" Narcissa said, already in the grip of Greyback while Lucius seemed utterly despondent, too afraid to speak up for his wife or son.

Hermione held her breath as Malfoy finally moved. He walked stiffly, looking anywhere but at her eyes. When he reached her, he took hold of her wrists roughly and hauled her to her feet. She was surprised by the strength of his grip, and even more so to learn he was trembling as much as she was though she had no idea if his was from fear or rage.

"Greyback, escort them and make sure the mudblood cannot escape," Bellatrix commanded while Draco tugged her along by the hand, walking swiftly, his back stiff, his grip on her wrist unrelenting.

The werewolf followed them.

"What's the matter, sweetling?" he purred in her ear as they went, his foul breath hot against her clammy skin. "You too afraid of the big bad wolf? Is that it? Is that why you want a boy instead of me?"

Hermione didn't answer, though she did walk a little faster.

"Go ahead and try to run from me again, sweetling," Greyback sneered, his voice lustful and gravelly now. "I love to chase down my prey. Really brings out the animal in me. You're going to love the way I bite."

Hermione felt the way Malfoy gripped her wrist a little tighter and tugged her forwards a little harder away from the werewolf.

"Enough!" Malfoy snapped at the werewolf as they reached what Hermione assumed to be his bedroom.

"Got to make sure the little bitch can't get away," Greyback said, shouldering his way into the room and going to the windows, which he conjured metal shutters to seal closed.

"Don't touch me!" Hermione hissed when he came back on his way out of the room and stalked close to her, trailing a clawed hand across her stomach as though he were imagining ripping into it and feasting on her entrails.

"Got to make sure she's ready for you, Malfoy," he said, and Hermione trembled in terror when the werewolf circled behind her. She began to cry when she felt a sharp tug accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric as he used his claws to shred the back of her jumper and her shirt, both of which fell open, exposing her back to the chilly air of Malfoy's bedroom.

She sobbed harder when she felt those same claws trail longingly over the small of her back while he purred in approval.

"You better fuck her good and proper boy," the werewolf growled threateningly at Malfoy, "I'll know if you don't leave your mark on her."

With that he walked out of the room, slamming the door and warding it as it locked magically behind him. Hermione flinched when Malfoy gripped her wrist again, tugging her deeper into the room. She had begun to tremble like a leaf now, her breath coming in short, gasping pants as the fear fought to overtake her mind. It took every effort to even remain on her feet when her body was in so much pain from the Cruciatus curse she'd been afflicted with time and time again. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, one of them almost swollen shut, and she squinted in confusion when she suddenly heard the sound of running water.

She turned to Malfoy, utterly bewildered as she suddenly found herself in a lavishly decorated bathroom where he was currently turning on the five shower-heads in the room, rapidly filling it with steam.

"You weren't supposed to get caught!" he hissed, suddenly jerking her close, his grey eyes serious and angry as he stood well within her personal space.

Hermione just stared at him, confused by his actions and his words.

"Listen, Granger," he commanded, still hissing, as though hoping that the werewolf – who was no doubt outside the room and waiting to hear the sounds of her sobbing and crying out – wouldn't be able to hear him hiss over the sound of the running water. "Where is Potter? You've got to tell me. I don't want to fucking rape you, but if you don't tell me now, neither of us is going to have a choice."

"But I don't know," Hermione replied, her voice croaky and cracking from all the screaming, thick from crying and pain, "I don't know where they are. We move constantly and only got caught when Harry lost his temper and accidentally said the name…."

"Give me something to work with, Granger!" Malfoy practically growled. "Something I can tell them so I don't have to do this!"

"I don't know where they are, Malfoy. I'm sorry…" Hermione whispered, feeling her legs beginning to give out beneath her, and noticing vaguely the pool of blood forming at her feet from the slash marks in her calf-muscle and ankle.

"Fuck!" he said through gritted teeth, his fists clenching in frustration. She squeaked in surprise when he suddenly seized hold of the destroyed jumper and shirt Hermione was clutching to her chest desperately, jerking it out of her grip and to the floor.

"Get undressed," he told her sternly,

"You're going to….." Hermione trailed off, her eyes wide and fearful now.

"Get in the shower, Granger," he told her, cutting her off before she could say it.

When she didn't move fast enough, her limbs sluggish and her mind recoiling from the idea of stripping in front of him, he stepped in even closer, his fingers making short work of the fastenings on her jeans. She whimpered when he dragged them down her legs, her arms clutching futilely at her emaciated body, trying to hide from him. Malfoy ignored her and Hermione began to cry again when he reached around behind her, easily unhooking her bra, which he proceeded to wrestle off her. He did the same for her knickers, and Hermione's heart began to pound with fear when he stepped around behind her, his hands on her back.

She squeaked in surprise when he shoved her hard enough that she stumbled right into the waiting stream of warm water under the spray of the shower.

"Tiggy!" he commanded sharply, not even looking at her as she huddled beneath the water, trying to hide from his cold gaze.

A sharp crack announced the arrival of a scared looking house elf, his eyes huge.

"Yes Master?" the elf murmured fearfully, his eyes dancing around the room.

"Take these and get them washed. See if you can mend the damage done to them by that cretin," he commanded, nudging his toe against the pile of Hermione's clothes. The ones she'd been wearing for weeks while she, Harry and Ron had been on the run. "Then bring some food for Granger."

Hermione reeled from the shock of his words, trying to understand what he was playing at. She was still huddled under the hot water, though after spending the entire winter camping and on the run, it felt good to finally shower again. The heat soothed her aching body, and she eventually gave in to the feeling of the water, choosing for the moment to pretend Malfoy wasn't there and instead reaching for the shampoo and conditioner, figuring that she might as well make the most of it while she could.

Weakness overtook her quickly, and even as she was washing the soap off her body, Hermione leaned against the shower wall before sliding down it until she was huddled on the floor under the spray.

"Don't fall asleep there," Malfoy's voice warned, and Hermione lifted her head to peer at him dimly. She could feel her body trying to give in, trying to surrender her to the arms of sleep and so save her from the nightmare that was currently her life.

"What are you doing?" Hermione whispered to him, not even sure he could hear her as her eyes slid closed. She wondered if she imagined his irritated sigh.

Hermione's eyes flew open when she suddenly felt his hands sliding beneath her arms, disturbingly close to her bared breasts before he lifted her back to her feet with surprising ease. He was shirtless and Hermione had no choice but to eye his torso as he tugged her out of the shower, leaning her against himself when she couldn't stand on her own while he turned the taps off.

He was underweight like she was, as though he too had been doing without food and sleep and sustenance for far too long. Hermione realised idly that his situation had more to do with constant fear than with a lack of access to food. She tried to squirm away from him as he wrapped both arms around her too-thin, naked body, pressing her harder against himself and carrying her that way across the steamy room and over to the vanity table, where he lifted her until she was sitting on the cold marble bench.

Goose-pimples raced across her skin and Hermione hated herself for not knowing if it was from the chill of the stone after the hot water, or from the feel of his skin brushing against hers as he moved away again. Desperately she tried to cover herself, crossing her legs together and using her hands to hide her modest breasts, but she suspected Malfoy was doing his best to not actually see that she was naked. He moved away for a moment, before returning with a bathrobe that was much too big for her, draping the folds around her and ensconcing her in the warmth before he brought her a towel for her hair.

"What are you doing?" Hermione repeated weakly when he finished scrubbing at her hair roughly, no doubt leaving it in a complete bird's nest of tangles.

"Trying to keep you alive long enough for your idiot friends to show up here and rescue you," he replied gruffly. "Show me your leg."

"My…. What?" Hermione asked, completely bewildered now, though she already felt far better than she had, even after just a simple hot shower to soothe the deep-seated ache in her bones and muscles from the abuse of the cruciatus curse.

"Your leg, Granger, where Greyback slashed you and bit you. Won't do anyone any good if you bleed out in my bathroom," Malfoy said, his cold bony hands already taking hold of the abused limb and lifting it so that he could examine the damage.

Hermione stared at him, and at the ragged wound, blinking in confusion when he pulled out his wand and began muttering spells to stem the blood-flow and heal the wound. She knew he wouldn't be able to heal it completely, not without the aid of someone with proper medical training, but he might be able to help.

"Do you have any dittany?" Hermione asked him, surprised by the fact that he didn't seem to know what to say to her and so was pretending to be completely focused on healing her leg. He nodded mutely, reaching past her to pull open the mirror on the wall, revealing an arsenal of first aid equipment.

Hermione blinked when he handed her a Pepper-Up potion.

"I don't have the flu," Hermione said, staring at him in confusion.

"Drink it Granger. It will help with the effects of the cruciatus curse," he commanded her, not raising his voice to more than a hiss, as though very much aware that they were being eavesdropped upon.

Hermione decided not to question how he might know that, or why he was trying to help her. Instead she drank the potion while he dripped dittany on the slash marks on her leg, followed by covering the entire wound in gauze, sticky bandages and wrapping her leg from ankle to knee in a clean white cloth-bandage. When he finished, he reached for a pot of bruise-healing cream. Hermione flinched slightly at his light touch when he smeared some over her abused cheek and around her swollen eye.

"Why are you helping me?" Hermione breathed to him, holding his steely gaze as he looked directly into her face.

"They'll fail without you," he breathed back to her seriously, frowning a little.

"Not over a bruised eye, they won't," Hermione whispered, perplexed and mildly concerned by that fact that such a cruel person had the capacity to touch her wounded cheek so gently. She chose to not even think about the strange spark she felt as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip where it had split open.

"I need you to tell me where they are, Granger," Malfoy murmured to her seriously, "Otherwise…"

"I don't know where they are, Malfoy," Hermione replied, "I haven't got even an inkling of where they will go…. I don't even know if they'll look for me."

"You didn't have some kind of plan on a place to meet if you got separated?" Malfoy demanded, raising his voice now so that if the werewolf was still listening outside the door, he would be able to report that Malfoy had interrogated her.

"We don't get separated," Hermione replied, "We've been on the run for months and months and we've never been separated before."

She chose not to mention the fact that Ron had a device that allowed him to find them when he'd taken off like a git. Or the fact that the most likely place they would've gone when they couldn't find her was the place she had once told Harry about. A little village by the East shore where she'd once been with her grandparents as a girl. She doubted Harry would even think of it. But if by some miracle he did, she didn't want to lead the Death Eaters right to him. Even if keeping the secret meant that she'd have to shag Malfoy.

"How can you not have agreed on some place to meet?" Malfoy demanded "You're the smartest witch in our year! How can you not have some kind of plan if things go wrong?"

She could tell from his waspish tone that he was getting cranky now, and that he believed she truly didn't know anything, that she was telling the truth. She could tell he was disgusted and appalled by the idea of having to shag her on his aunt's orders. She could see the frustration and desperation in his eyes.

"Our plan was don't get caught," Hermione replied, "And then Harry lost his temper and those bastards showed up. I have no idea where they could be. For all I know they've been captured or killed. All I know is that  _if_ they think that I'm here and even still alive, they'll try to get in to save me."

"They haven't been caught or killed," Malfoy muttered, "Trust me, we'd known if they had. They're all under orders to bring anyone they find here to be interrogated the way you have been."

"How many people has she fed to Greyback?" Hermione asked, feeling sick to her stomach and not really wanting to know the answer.

"Only one," Malfoy replied, looking away from her now, "And it was disgusting."

Hermione knew from his expression that he meant it and suspected based on the haunted look in his eyes that the werewolf had torn apart whoever that person had been and probably eaten them in front of him. There was no other explanation for his look of absolute horror. He moved to turn away from her and before he could Hermione grabbed hold of his arm.

He eyed her coldly as though he knew what was coming.

Hermione pulled him as close as she could, pressing her lips directly to his ear.

"Can you get me out of here?" she breathed to him so softly that she wasn't sure even Malfoy would know what she'd said, let alone anyone listening.

"No one can apparate through the wards except the Dark Lord," he shook his head, "And there's no way either of us are getting out of this room without doing what they want…."

Hermione deflated with defeat. If that was true, there was no way Harry and Ron would be able to get inside to save her, and even if they did, none of them would be able to get out. She wondered if Harry would remember the words she whispered to him one night about what they ought to do if either of them was captured. Harry had been concerned that they would try to follow him, and had all but ordered her to refrain should that ever happen. She wondered if he would honour her wishes and not try to find her when there was more at stake than just her life.

"There's absolutely nothing you can give me to get us out of this?" he asked her, and Hermione realised she still had her hand on the back of Malfoy's neck, pulling him close to her so she could speak directly into his ear.

"I made Harry promise not to search for me if I got caught," Hermione replied miserably.

"He's not going to leave you here. They know as well as I do that they'll fail without you," Malfoy replied.

After that, they both waited in silence and Hermione wondered why he didn't pull away from her.

"You know what this means…. Right?" he asked her softly.

"You're going to have to…" Hermione trailed off, her body beginning to tremble once more at the very idea. She gritted her teeth at her own fear, hating the idea of having someone as cruel as Malfoy touch her, but giving herself a stern talking to that it was better Malfoy than Greyback or one of the other Death Eaters. He'd even been kind to her and healed some of her hurts.

"Guess it's a good thing you already hate me," Hermione heard him mutter as he stepped back from where he'd been leaning against the bench between her spread legs and tugging her off the cabinet.

"Better you than them," Hermione muttered back.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Hermione squared her shoulders and limped out of his bathroom and into his bedroom. She trembled even more as she limped closer to the bed.

"Eat first," he told her, stopping her with a touch and nudging her towards a coffee table where the elf must have brought her some food. There was a plate of roast meat and vegetables with gravy waiting for her.

"Last meal, eh?" Hermione asked humourlessly.

"Maybe," she heard him mutter. He sounded angry again, as though he wanted to break something and Hermione wondered if his anger was aimed at her or at his Aunt for putting him in this positon, or perhaps at his father for joining the Death Eaters in the first place.

"You do realise that the longer you prolong this, the more awkward it's going to be, don't you?" Hermione asked him when she was almost finished her meal, scarfing it down in spite of the threatening nausea at the idea that any minute now she was going to have to have sex with Draco Malfoy.

He glanced at her sideways from where he was standing by the fire and she could tell he was already feeling awkward. Hermione could tell that he really didn't want to rape her and that though she wasn't going to put up a fight – knowing that their survival depended on them doing this – Hermione could tell that he didn't like the idea any more than she did. Were they under any other circumstances, where they weren't being pushed to have sex, they would never do so.

"Just eat your food, Granger," Malfoy growled at her and Hermione could hear the frustration in his tone.

"I can't eat any more," Hermione admitted, laying down her utensils.

"Then get up," he told her and Hermione felt her stomach clench with fear at the realisation that this was it. In spite of her fear, Hermione found her courage, climbing gingerly to her feet and moving away from the couch. She moved towards the middle of the room, unable to contemplate willingly going to the bed alone. She jumped when he strode across the room toward her and she squeaked in surprise when he collided with her. His hands delved into her messy hair and before she could do more than squawk in shock his lips covered hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and setting her whole body on fire.

Hermione hadn't expected that.

She hadn't expected the flush of heat that coursed through her body in response to him and she hadn't expected to find herself bringing her own hands up, curling around his bare hips. He'd yet to put a shirt back on after lifting her out of the shower and the feel of his smooth skin beneath her hands made Hermione feel funny inside. On some level Hermione felt very much like she was betraying Ron, standing there furiously snogging Draco Malfoy. She told herself that she didn't have a choice. That she would be killed if she didn't do this.

But that didn't mean she should be enjoying it. Draco Malfoy was simply something else in this wretched war to be endured. Definitely not to be enjoyed.

Not that he was going to make it easy, it seemed. Hermione heard the pathetic whimper that escaped her when he pulled away from her lips to trail a line of burning kisses, licks and nips down her throat, his hands leaving her hair to tug at the tie holding the bathrobe she wore closed, prying it open angrily. Hermione could tell from the rough actions that he was positively furious and she dug her nails into his hips when he brutally nipped her collarbone, his hands trailing over her body to cup her breasts.

She gritted her teeth, trying to bite back a moan of pleasure when he began rolling her nipples between his fingers, pinching just enough to smart but not enough to truly hurt her. She hated herself when the moan escaped anyway, and when she found her hands making short work of the fastenings on his trousers. She told herself to think of Ron. To imagine that it was his mouth and his hands tormenting her flesh.

She tried desperately to think of anyone other than Draco Malfoy and anything other than the fiery passion he'd stirred within her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains lemons and some triggers. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such things.

Draco Malfoy could tell from the way the little mudblood kept stiffening and relaxing in his hold that she was trying desperately to cling to reason and sanity. To tell herself that she didn't feel a thing. She was trying to hold still in his grip, as though she meant simply to endure his touch. That made him angry.

He was angry that she had to try not to enjoy the feel of his mouth on hers and his hands on her body. He was furious that she would dare to think she could just stoically endure this the same way she'd endured her torture downstairs. Most of all he was livid that the bitch was effecting him. He ought not to be feeling a single thing as he shoved her up against the door, being sure to be rough enough that she cried out a little in pain and annoyance. Being sure the beast beyond the door would hear that he wasn't just coddling the pathetic little swot.

Draco hated himself for the fact that the bitch was turning him on. He hated that she could draw such a reaction from him. Heat had rushed through him the minute he'd touched her, his senses roaring to life in a way he'd never experienced before and Draco couldn't stand the idea that this ridiculous mudblood could call forth such reactions from him. Her hands made short work of his belt and his fly, his already erect cock springing free of his trousers and Draco hated her for that.

Shoving the robe off her body roughly, Draco hiked her up his body until she had her legs wrapped around his waist. He was livid when she stiffened in his hold once more, clearly trying to remind herself that she was betraying her precious blood-traitor boyfriend by doing this with him. As though either of them had a fucking choice. Growling in fury, Draco wasn't about to let her get away with this. If he had to endure the shame of actually wanting to fuck her now that he'd laid his hands on her, then she had better do more than simply tolerate his touch.

Draco would make damned sure of it.

Holding her secure against his body, Draco spun them both away from the door and carried her across the room to his bed. When he reached it Draco took great delight in dropping down on top of her, hearing the air whoosh out of her lungs in her surprise. He felt an angry smirk curl across his face when she tried to cling to him as he pulled back again. The minute she realised the way she was clutching him, Draco felt her tense and then release him and he gritted his teeth in fury.

She wasn't going to get away with this.

As he pulled away from her mouth, pressing a line of kisses down her chest, he felt the way her hands ghosted over his shoulders and his back before she dropped them back to the bed, fisting them as though in an attempt to keep from showing how much she wanted him. Draco wasn't having that.

"What are you…?" she began when Draco nipped his way towards her left breast, "Oh God.. no, you can't…ah."

Draco chose not to speak as he took her nipple into his mouth, nipping the taught peak with his teeth just hard enough to punish her before suckling it. She writhed in his grip, a string of curses leaving her mouth and surprising Draco with her foul language. He'd never expected the mudblood could talk so dirty.

Using his hands he pinned her arms to the bed beside her head and he shot her a cruel smirk when she hissed at him for biting the opposite nipple, being sure not to neglect either one. Despite her best attempts Draco could feel the way she was arching into his touch and he took great satisfaction as he kissed his way lower, trailing a line of hot kisses across her ribs and taut stomach. Her knees were bent up and surrounded him.

"Don't you dare," she warned through gritted teeth, reaching for his chin in an attempt to stop him from licking her glistening slit. Draco smirked when she fell for the ploy, stopping his face from going any lower but completely neglecting his fingers.

"No," she groaned when he drove two of them deep inside her, plunging them and curling his fingers to apply pressure to the spongy tissue along her inner front wall. The filthy little mudblood moaned like a well-paid whore as he worked her over with his fingers. She was glaring at him in fury but didn't seem able to focus long enough to voice any further protests. The glint of panic in her brown eyes told Draco she was close and that she couldn't bare the idea of betraying Weaselbee by coming on Draco's fingers.

Draco delighted in the mental anguish he was causing her. It was only justified that she be tormented and punished for what she had stirred to life in him. The heat of her skin against his was divine and Draco loathed her for having stirred a similar heat in him. He felt his blood boiling with the need to dominate her. To claim her. To fuck her within an inch of her life as though she was all he'd ever need.

And he hated her for it.

How dare she cause such a response in him? How dare she make him want her this way? He'd never wanted to fuck anyone so much as he wanted to fuck Hermione Granger in that moment.

"No…. no, no, no, no, NO!" she chanted and Draco knew she was trying desperately to prevent herself from coming all over his fingers. That she was scrambling within her own mind for something, for anything to focus on other than the pleasure he was inflicting upon her. She tried to snap her legs closed to force him away. She tried tugging on his hand to make him stop.

When she managed to pry his hand free of her clutching passage Draco simply lowered his mouth and swipe against her clit with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck!" she cursed, her head flinging back against the pillows as he speared his tongue deep inside her, finding he rather enjoyed her taste. Salty and tangy with a healthy dose of sweetness, Draco had never enjoyed the flavour of a woman so much. How dare she taste better than the others?

As punishment, Draco drove her to the edge again and again, going to work with his fingers, his teeth, his lips and his tongue until she was sobbing with how badly she craved release.

"You bastard!" she snarled when he brought he to the highest peak before backing off enough to keep her from coming, "I'll never forgive you for this!"

Draco's dark chuckle was one of pure wickedness. He didn't want her forgiveness. He wanted to brand into her mind all the things he was doing to her. He wanted her to never forget that driving this pleasure into him was an unforgiveable act, one that would see her punished. His hatred for her had never been more profound than it was in that moment.

"No!" she growled, her voice breathy and weak yet husky with desire, "No! You can't do this! I can't…. oh god… fuck!"

Knowing just how badly she did and yet also did not want to come, Draco forced her too. He slowly added a third finger to her tight passage, scraping his nails roughly against her clamping walls while he worried at the tiny bud of pleasure at the top of her slit. When he took it between his teeth and twisted his head to one side and then the other, she came apart at the seams.

"NOOOOO!" she screamed, her voice cracking and her hands fisted so tightly in his hair that Draco was sure he would be missing several strands. She didn't seem to know if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer and Draco body's throbbed painfully with how badly he craved her. Merlin, he'd kill her for it. He'd never forgive the little bitch for making him so hard.

Before she could recover Draco crawled up her body, snatching up both her hands and dragging them up the bed. He planted his lips hungrily on her dirty little mouth even as he buried himself deep inside her. She was so wet that he met no resistance as he filled her, sheathing himself inside her tight, wet, clutching passage.

Fuck a troll, it felt like heaven.

He was going to have to kill her. That much was clear. Because if he didn't kill her, Draco wasn't sure he'd ever get over fucking her. Her hands tried to lift beneath his, her arms writhing in his grip and her back arching as he penetrated deep, filling her to capacity. She was snogging him wildly, so he suspected she meant to use her hands to tug him closer, but he wasn't having it. He wasn't through punishing this witch just yet.

He set a hard driving rhythm, jerking himself out before ramming himself back into her roughly. He didn't think either of them would be able to live with it should he take his time and be gentle with her, and fuck it all Draco didn't want to. He fucked her brutally, so hard that her body scooted up the bed until her back was pressed against his headboard and he had his feet tucked up underneath himself, her legs sprawled either side of his hips. She'd managed to get her hands free and she was using her sharp nails with wicked effect, clawing his flesh. Draco could tell from the expression of pleasure and pain and hatred on her face that even she didn't know if she was doing it simply as a reaction to his own violence or out of pure hatred.

She met his gaze for a long moment.

"I can't," she groaned hoarsely, her eyes wide and panicked, her expression flickering between one of fear and pleasure over the idea of coming on his cock when she'd already come on his fingers and his tongue. He could tell she didn't trust herself not to and he could see it in her eyes that it was a point of no return for her. It was one thing, after all, to have sex with him because neither of them had a choice in the matter. It was entirely another to enjoy it so profoundly whilst simultaneously hating it so much and Draco knew she'd never forgive herself for betraying her boyfriend this way if she came on his cock.

Draco, on the other hand, would never forgive her for making him feel this way. He'd never enjoyed fucking any witch as much. He'd never felt so utterly free. His past bed partners had all been needy, annoying swots he'd talked into bed with him for the sake of being laid and scratching an itch. He'd never felt anything at all about any of them. He hadn't loved any of them. He hadn't hated any of them. They had all simply been shags of convenience when he felt the need for burying his cock in a warm wet hole.

Granger was different.

He'd never hated any witch so much as he hated this bushy-haired know-it-all who'd gotten him punished every holiday for consistently besting him in classes. He'd never despised anyone so much as this brainy, brilliant bitch who'd often outsmarted him and his friends. He'd never fucked anyone he felt anything for. To feel so much hatred for this one, and to hate her all the more for making him want to fuck her was something Draco could scarcely control.

He didn't have to be gentle with her. He didn't have to worry about seeing her again and knowing what they'd done. There was a very real chance she would never set foot outside this Manor again. He hated her for the freedom he felt when he fucked her. She cried out in his hold, cursing and muttering about how she simply couldn't come again.

Draco was going to make her.

"I. Fucking. Hate. You!" he snarled in her face, punctuating each word with a high, hard, brutal thrust deep inside her clamping, greedy passage. He had one hand wrapped none-too-gently around her throat ramming her against the headboard. He didn't squeeze her neck. He had no intention of killing her. Just of showing her how utterly he loathed her.

"Oh god," she whispered and Draco felt a truly cruel, utterly wicked smirk of pure ruthlessness spread across his face when her body went taut in his hold, her back arching and drawing him deeper, her passage clenching and squeezing his cock as she came hard. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of his back, clutching him desperately like an anchor in the sea of pleasure he'd hurled her into.

Draco hated her all the more when she dragged him in with her, snogging him furiously, teeth nipping his lips, tonguing sparring with his, trying to find any semblance of dominance. He broke the kiss to curse when his body jerked deep within her, spurting his release inside her tight sheath.

Granger slumped against him in exhaustion after that, her taut body going lax in his hold, curling forwards and resting her chin on the top of his left shoulder. She was breathing hard, and Draco could tell from the little jerks and sounds she was making that she was crying. No doubt in horror at the betrayal she'd just committed. Mildly he considered saying something, sneering at her that maybe she preferred the darker side of things more than she thought if she was so willing to come on his cock.

He didn't.

Instead he burrowed one hand behind her, shifting her slightly on his lap to free his softening member from her swollen passage. His whole body ached with the power of each thrust he'd given her. He'd never fucked anyone so hard in his life and he wondered what kind of sick bastard he must be to have so profoundly enjoyed it. In fact, he was still trying gauge how twisted he might be when Granger went tense in his hold and suddenly screamed. Draco tightened his grip on her when she ducked her head down, tucking it against his chest and under his chin.

He almost didn't want to turn around, terrified of what he would find there that would have the courageous Gryffindor hiding against his chest. Turning his head slowly, Draco felt sick when he found that bastard werewolf leaning in the doorway to his bedroom, his cock in his hand. He'd clearly been stroking it, and had been watching them for a while.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Draco snarled, white hot rage boiling in his blood. His wand was in the pocket of his discarded trousers on the floor, but the fury coursing through him unleashed wandless, non-verbal magic, blasting the werewolf out of the doorway with a boom. The entire doorway exploded and set the disgusting creature's fur on fire where he'd been blown back into the opposite wall, knocked unconscious, much of his skin peeling off as a result of the blast and more burning and sloughing off as he burned. Draco didn't know if he was dead, and to be honest he didn't really care.

He detested that sick bastard and the world would be a better place without him.

"DRACO?!" a voice shouted from down the hall and Draco cursed foully when his mother, his father, his aunt, and a few other Death Eaters – Scabior and Turgroll – appeared in the doorway looking horror-stricken.

"Did she do this?" Aunt Bella demanded and Draco found himself wishing the bitch had been standing with the werewolf when he'd blasted the bastard.

"I did," Draco snapped furiously, "If he's not dead get the twisted fuck out of here before I finish the bloody job!"

"Touchy, touchy, Drakey," Aunt Bella purred and Draco felt sick when the bitch looked proud.

"He's dead," Lucius pronounced, feeling for a pulse and dousing the flaming body, "Need I ask why he died with his cock in his hand?"

"I don't think so," Draco snapped, "Bastard was jerking off in my doorway, watching."

"Disgusting!" Draco's mother said, looking like she might be sick. The scent of burning werewolf filled the doorway.

"Get him the fuck out of here and the rest of you piss off. I'm naked here," Draco drawled at them, feeling mildly better for having killed the werewolf. It had been a long journey since the night on the Astronomy Tower when he'd lowered his wand against Dumbledore, and Draco wasn't the same scared boy he'd been then. He had a knack for killing, in fact, as long as he was killing people he felt the world no longer needed. More than one of his fellow Death Eaters had met a sticky end when Draco had been sent after people, his wand turning easily on his brethren when he could get away with it.

"Really, Draco?" his father snapped, looking disapproving. Draco levelled the man a glare. He might still love his parents dearly, but Draco was through with simpering at the bidding of his father while he tried to get back in the Dark Lord's good graces. Besides, he had a naked mudblood on his lap and his junk dangling free and on display.

"OUT!" Draco shouted, regretting having destroyed the doorway. He smirked in surprise when the exploded doorway suddenly repaired itself, closing them all out of the room. For a moment he thought he'd also managed to mend it, but when he glanced suspiciously at the swot still hiding beneath his chin and straddling his lap, Draco began to think the mudblood might be responsible for the repair job.

"Did you do that?" he asked her curiously, surprised that she could do such powerful magic. Her wand had been confiscated when she'd been captured and she hadn't shifted at all on his lap, even to look at the doorway. In fact, Draco couldn't even see her face. She seemed too intent on keeping her bushy head of curls tucked firmly beneath his chin, hiding her face from him and from the others outside the door, whom Draco could hear arguing about how to deal with the mess and the dead body of the werewolf.

If he had to guess, Draco would say she was probably also still crying, since her shoulders shook silently. She didn't answer his question, though she did shuffle her weight a little on his lap, as though uncomfortable with being naked despite what they'd just done. Rolling his eyes Draco shuffled backwards, away from the headboard, sliding her off his lap as he went. She pulled her knees up to her chest as soon as she was free of his hold, hiding her face against her knees. Draco caught the crimson shade of it before she hid it and he smirked. He expected it would take quite a while for the embarrassment she felt to fade.

He cursed in annoyance when his aunt began pounding on the door, wanting to know what he'd learned as a result of fucking the mudblood. Somehow Draco doubted she would like to know that the little bitch was the best he'd ever had. Snatching up the bathrobe he'd stripped off Granger earlier before storming over to the door, waving his wand to get it open before glaring down into the face of his deranged aunt.

"What?" he snapped at her. He was thoroughly through with her horseshit and the minute he could get away with it, Draco was going to see the bitch killed for what she'd done. It was all her fault he'd had to fuck the mudblood in the first place. Her fault that Draco would probably never forget fucking Mudblood Granger. Her fault that he wasn't even sure he bloody wanted to forget.

"Did she tell you where Potter is?" his Aunt Bellatrix asked, and Draco felt a cruel and furious smirk spread across his face when he caught the flicker of fear in her gaze as he levelled such a cold gaze at her. She wasn't easily daunted, he knew. And he could tell the blasting of his doorway and the murder of the werewolf had changed her perspective of her favourite nephew. She'd clearly had no idea he could do that without a wand.

"She doesn't have a fucking clue where he is, or how to find him now that they're separated. The best way to get your hands on him will be to spread it around that we've got her here, alive. That will bring him and all those Order bastards out of the woodwork," Draco told her, thinking quickly about the best way to get Granger free. He wasn't going to outright turn on the Dark cause, but Draco had seen enough to know that the Order and the light needed to win this war, else they were all doomed.

"She's broken?" Aunt Bella wanted to know, smiling wickedly when she looked past him, revealing her disgusting rotted teeth. When she frowned suddenly Draco glanced over his shoulder.

He was more than a little surprised to see that Granger had scooped up the Slytherin jersey he usually wore to bed. She'd pulled it on and climbed off his bed. He watched in a fascinated kind of horror when she scampered towards the now uncovered windows, shoving one open and releasing a patronus out of it. Moving quickly across the room Draco foresaw trouble ahead that he needed to head off. She was climbing the frame and about to throw herself out the third story window when he latched onto her, dragging her back inside the bedroom.

"Who did you send that patronus to?" Aunt Bellatrix screamed, having followed him into the room.

"What Patronus?" Granger tried to feign ignorance and Draco would've laughed at her acting ability if she weren't once again in grave danger. Spinning her in his hold, Draco did the only thing he could think of to make his Aunt think the witch was broken to him.

Pressing one forearm across her throat Draco pinned her to the wall by the window. His free hand immediately scooted under the hem of the jersey she wore and she cried out in pain and hatred and pleasure all at once as he drove three fingers back inside her.

"Who did you send it to?" Draco growled into her face, hating himself when he felt his body stir at the way she glared at him. She shook her head, refusing to tell him and Draco wanted to curse. He needed her to play along, merlin curse it all! He needed her to help him make Bellatrix think he could control her so that he could keep her out of the dungeons and out of the hands of the other Death Eaters. Otherwise he had no doubt the bitch would throw the little mudblood to the more twisted and disgusting of his brethren and let them have their fun fucking her to death.

He eyeballed her hard, curling his fingers against the special spot inside her and feeling her squirm. His Aunt was giggling beside him and she gave a little cheer when Granger couldn't hold back a tiny moan.

"Tell me who you sent the message to!" Draco demanded, punctuating each word with a ram of his fingers deep inside her.

"Harry and Ron," she spat through gritted teeth.

"What did you tell them?" Draco asked her, hoping to hell she was playing along and not this easy to break.

She shook her head again and Draco caught the way she slitted her eyes towards Bellatrix before glaring daggers at him again when he ground his thumb against her clit.

"Oh merlin," she whimpered, "I told them…" she tried, her voice growing ragged, "I told them where I am…. They'll come…. You'll all die for this!"

"So well trained, Draco," His aunt commented approvingly and Draco wanted to be sick, "You must have a special touch."

Draco threw up a little in his mouth when she brushed a hand over his shoulder and shot him a flirtatious smile.

"Want me to see what else I can get out of her?" Draco asked rather than acknowledging the neurotic woman's advances.

"Yes," Bellatrix cackled manically, "See if you can get her to tell us where they've been hiding, where the rest of the Order are hiding. Keep her alive. We need her alive to lure Potter here for the Dark Lord to kill."

With that said she leered unkindly at Granger and sauntered out of the room, cackling nastily the whole way. Draco didn't dare look over his shoulder, he didn't want to see the expression he expected he would see on his Mother's face at his actions. Instead he kept his gaze focused on the searing hot witch he was finger-fucking, unrelentingly pumping his fingers into her and eliciting moans of pleasure and horror from her with each curl of his fingers. Just as he heard the bedroom door close, Granger shrieked and came all over his hand again, sticky juices leaking from her.

Draco knew he was fucked when he found himself wanting desperately to lick his fingers clean.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My darling cherubs, I'm so pleased by your response to this fic! It makes me so happy to know you're intrigued and want to read on. I have more than 100k words pre-written for this fic, so fear not, you're in for a long and healthy stint of frequent updates. I plan to have the story be complete by the time I get up to date with posting how many chapters are currently pre-written, so you shouldn't run out before this is finished. What do you think of Draco and Hermione so far? Are you enjoying them? Don't forget to pop a review down the bottom in that box for me to tell me what you think. Much love! xx-Kitten

Hermione Granger had never been so humiliated in all her life. She was going to kill Draco Malfoy the minute she got the chance. She'd understood that they'd had to have sex to keep them both from being murdered. She'd even understood that he'd had to be rough with her to keep the others from doubting his results when he couldn't get any more answers from her. When he'd so gleefully and brutally dragged her to orgasm, Hermione had wanted to claw his eyes out. She'd never simultaneously hated and loved something so much than she did when being properly fucked by Draco Malfoy.

How dare he do that to her? How dare he knowingly draw orgasm after orgasm from her? How dare he use his fingers and his mouth when all that had been required was his prick? Hermione had never been so mortified.

She'd never felt like such a harlot either. She'd betrayed Ronald. She'd submitted to sex with Malfoy to keep herself alive. That didn't mean she'd had any right to enjoy it. She felt like she'd cheated on him. It hadn't simply been a tragedy of war to be endured for the greater good. Malfoy had made sure she felt every thrust. He'd made sure she would never live down the shame of coming on his command. Hermione knew she had betrayed Ron. Sure, he didn't know about this. Sure, she'd had to have sex to keep herself alive. Those things could be forgiven.

But that didn't mean she could be forgiven for liking it. And blast it all, she'd loved it. She'd hated it. She hated him more than she hated anyone else on the planet and every thrust had only mounted her growing detestation of him, but merlin curse it all she'd loved it too. She'd never felt so out of control. So free. Malfoy hadn't given her any option but to feel every bruising thrust. He'd fucked her so hard she knew she'd have bruises and already her body ached with what he'd done.

When she'd come apart at the seams Hermione had never known a high like it and she knew she'd never forget it, even if she did want to burn the entire experience from her brain, she knew no amount of memory charms or potions would let her forget what he'd done to her. She'd hated him all the more for jostling her on his lap afterwards. Shifting her a bit to make them both more comfortable without simply shoving her away like a disposable object.

She'd been trying to catch her breath and unable to restrain her tears as she leant against him, boneless and sated in a way she'd never been before. And she'd been disgusted and terrified when she'd laid eyes on that horrible beast, his hand stroking his todger as he watched them. She hadn't even thought about it as she tucked her flaming face under Malfoy's chin, hiding behind him in shame at being watched, at having anyone other than Malfoy witness her undoing. Her betrayal.

She certainly hadn't expected his reaction. She'd never seen anyone so explosively furious as Malfoy had been and she'd been beyond frightened when the door and the werewolf had exploded, blasted with such raw magical power that the git had died instantly. She'd never known anyone with that kind of ability. Sure all wizards had the potential, with enough practice, to use wandless and nonverbal magic. They also had the ability they had as children to make magic happen without a wand, but such a directed and deadly display was humbling.

Hermione knew she could do that kind of wandless and nonverbal magic, and she'd proved it when she repaired the door to keep anyone else from seeing her humiliation, but she'd never had the potential or the rage to kill someone with her ability. In fact, if she was totally honest, Hermione was a little afraid of Malfoy in that moment. She'd seen the hatred in his face and in his eyes when he'd fucked her, heard the truth to his words when he'd told her of his hatred for her. Had he wanted to, he could probably have killed her.

But he didn't. She'd meant to jump either to death or freedom after sending her patronus after Harry and Ron, and she hated him for stopping her. Hermione had even seen the moment of panic and desperation in Malfoy's face when his aunt had begun to scream and she'd realised as he shoved his arm against her throat and his fingers back inside her that he wanted to convince the crazy witch that he had control over her. That he could break her spirit and get answers from her. She'd known it wouldn't be realistic if she didn't put up a fight.

And she'd hated him more than ever when he'd proceeded to torment her aching flesh while the crazy bitch looked on gloatingly.

He dropped his arm the minute the door closed but Hermione barely noticed, too lost in the high he'd forced on her once more with his skilled hands on her flesh.

"I'm going to kill you," she promised him quietly, opening her eyes slowly when her legs began to wobble, her knees shaking and almost giving out beneath her as a result of the world-rocking orgasm he'd elicited from her.

"No you're not," he replied and Hermione could hear just as much promise in his voice, "I'm the only reason you're not being passed around the group, fucked to death by the rest of those bastards. Did you actually send that patronus to Potter?"

Hermione bit her lip, hating him for seeing through he lie.

"No," Hermione answered, "It would be too easy to follow. I sent it to some of the Order members, telling them where I am and to get word to Harry and Ron."

He caught her when her knees gave out underneath her as a result of pure exhaustion. The things he'd done to her, preceded by his Aunt's torture had left her drained and bone-tired. Hermione tried to protest when he scooped her up in his hold as though she weighed nothing, carrying her towards his bed. She tried idly to cover her bottom, feeling the way the soft fabric of his robe tickled her bared skin and recalling she only wore his old Quidditch jersey.

"Put me down," Hermione demanded feebly.

"Shut it, Granger," Malfoy told her, twisting and swaying a bit as he dragged open the covers on the bed before laying her inside it. Hermione felt strange when he pulled them over, tucking her in almost gently.

Hermione stared at the ceiling of the huge four-post bed, trying not to flinch in shock when Malfoy walked around the bed and climbed in on the other side after snagging up some pyjama bottoms and tugging them on. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. She didn't speak when Malfoy laid on his back beside her in the bed.

Her mind wandered to her boyfriend and how crushed he would be when he found out she'd been shagged by Draco Malfoy. He'd never forgive her. He'd never be able to let it go. Not when he knew she'd come. And he would find out. She wouldn't tell him, but she knew any of the other Death Eaters who'd heard would blab it around, making sure it got back to her friends.

"Anything you want to tell me?" Malfoy asked sometime later when Hermione, despite her exhaustion, found that her guilt wouldn't let her sleep.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

"Bellatrix thinks I'm raping more information out of you. You better give me something to work with or she'll hand you off to the others. If she thinks I'm not getting the job done she'll make someone else do it," Malfoy informed her, and Hermione knew he was right.

"I'm not telling you anything about the Order or about Harry and Ron," Hermione told him sternly. After all, it might've been better Malfoy than any of those other horribly Dark wizards, but at least her body wouldn't respond to them. They would be too interested in their own pleasures to be concerned over her endurance of their touch. Not like Malfoy had been. He'd not done so out of generosity or because he cared if she enjoyed sex with him. He'd done it because he knew she'd hate herself all the more for enjoying it. He'd known she would be tormented over what he'd done, over climaxing in the arms of the enemy.

"You want them to have at you?" he asked, sounding shocked and a little bit angry.

"They're not going to make me feel worse by…." Hermione began hotly, before snapping her mouth shut. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him smirk, realising what she meant despite her refusal to admit it.

"I  _hate_ you," Hermione hissed at him when he chuckled softly.

"Not as much as I hate you, Mudblood," he assured her coldly and Hermione suspected she might get whiplash from his mercurial mood-swings.

They both fell silent once more. Hermione could feel herself slipping towards slumber, despite everything, and she feared the nightmares she knew would come. Just as she was almost asleep, Hermione felt his hand slide across the bed towards her under the covers. She tensed for a moment, fearful he wanted to torture her into orgasm once more, but instead he took her hand under the covers.

He didn't squeeze it, didn't use it to pull her to him. Just simply held it as though he meant to provide her some form of comfort. As she slipped off to sleep Hermione found her own fingers curling up to hold his hand just as firmly.


End file.
